


Lost Boy

by Phia



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, New York, Past Matsuoka Rin/Yamazaki Sousuke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-08-07 15:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7719298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phia/pseuds/Phia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em> “Hi, I’m Rin, and I’m seventeen.” Rin punctuates this with a grimace, as if to say, </em> Well, doesn’t this all suck?</p><p><em> (The answer is a resounding </em> yes.<em>) </em></p><p>Or, the "World's Strictest Parents" AU where Rin finds out that the parents aren't that strict and their son could be his soulmate. </p><p>For RinHaru Week and Day 3's Red prompt — Transformations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Found a Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> A summary of the TV show "World's Strictest Parents":
> 
> _Teenagers are sent to live with a strict host family either locally or abroad for a week in an attempt to change their attitudes, outlooks and behaviours in general._
> 
> This story is set in New York. "Past SouRin" is tagged, but there's just one instance.
> 
> I planned on finishing this fic during RinHaru Week, but it's longer than I thought it'd be. I'll finish it after RinHaru Week.

“Hi, I’m Rin, and I’m seventeen.” Rin punctuates this with a grimace, as if to say, _Well, doesn’t this all suck_?  
  
(The answer is a resounding _yes_.)  
  
The cameraman doesn’t stop filming, keeping his fingers splayed around the device. The director says, “Talk more. Where do you live? Why are you here? You reviewed the list of questions, right?”  
  
Rin tilts his head, eyes flicking back to the camera. _Did they think I’d plunge into this_? “I live in New York City. I guess I’m doing this because I don’t get along with my mom, or my sister, really.  
  
I smoke. And drink. Some drugs, mostly ecstasy.” He rattles off the list, everything seeming so usual.  
  
“Are you in a relationship?”  
  
Rin chuckles. “Sometimes I have sex at parties, but I always use protection. So I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”  
  
The director fights to keep a straight face, but Rin can feel the disapproval wafting off of him. _Whatever_. He’s not there to please anyone, except for his mom.  
  
He’d agreed to try for her and Gou. They deserved it after Rin's screaming matches with either of them. And hearing him slam his fists against walls, and slamming his bedroom door closed.  
  
The crew starts to drag wires and walk microphones towards the kitchen. They'll interview Rin’s mother next. He catches a glimpse of her before walking towards his bedroom. When he flops down on the mattress, he allows himself to hope.  _Maybe this will work, or something. Maybe I'll feel better after this._  


* * *

 

His assigned family lives in a blue-painted townhouse with white trim surrounding the windows. A couple stands on the pavement at the end of the front steps. They wave at the car as it pulls up to the curb.  
  
Rin doesn’t have much luggage, just a backpack and a wheeled black suitcase. No one offers to help him with his baggage. He wheels his bag onto the sidewalk himself, grumbling under his breath.  
  
He manages to stand in front of the couple and take them in. The man and woman both have black hair. The man is in a mint button-down and khakis, while the woman is in a black dress with yellow flowers.

The woman steps forward and holds out her hand. “Hello, I’m Airi Nanase.”  
  
Rin shakes her hand and recites his own name. He feels underdressed, just wearing a white T-shirt and black skinny jeans.  
  
Her grip is strong and she looks into his eyes when they let go. Takao Nanase’s grip is weaker and he smiles during their handshake. Rin can see who runs the house.  
  
“Our sons will be home from swimming practice in a bit,” Airi says, already turning away from Rin. “For now, let me show you around.”  
  
They take him and the camera crew through the downstairs area. There's the living room, the kitchen, the dining room, and the back porch. Then, they bring him upstairs to point out the bathroom, their bedroom, and his own room. He leaves his bags there before rejoining them in the hall. The guest room holds a twin bed, a nightstand, and a chest of drawers. It’s not that bad.  
  
That’s what he tries to tell himself about everything when they sit at the dining table. Papers already sit on the oak, and Rin examines the way that Airi picks them up.  
  
“Here are the rules of my household. You will follow these and my sons do the same.”

* * *

 

The wheeled suitcase is open on Rin’s bed. He sits beside it, ruffling through the folded clothes.  
  
“I have to do chores. No cursing. No drugs. No alcohol. No partying. No going out with my friends. No sex.”  
  
He removes a sock. The sock has a design on the toe area to make it look like a shark's mouth.  
  
“No cigarettes.”  
  
He reaches into the sock and pulls out a carton of cigarettes. He drops the carton down onto the hardwood floor.  
  
“No leaving the house without Haru or Nagisa.”  
  
He whirls on the camera with angered eyes the color of red wine.  
  
“Who are _late_ , by the way.”  


* * *

   
  
“So, Rin." Airi sounds like they're going to have this discussion and there's nothing Rin can do about it. "How old is your sister?”

The Nanases have a golden chandelier in their dining room. It hangs over their heads, crystals glinting in the peach evening light. The teenager at the table underneath it bats at his mackerel serving with a fork. He’s never been a huge fan of fish. “Gou is sixteen.”  
  
Airi nods. “What’s your relationship with her like?”  
  
“It’s fine.”  
  
Rin feels like a panel is judging him. Airi sits across from him and to the left. Takao is on her right.   
  
She takes a sip of water before setting her glass down. “So it’s just you, her, and your mom in the house.”  
  
Rin pauses moving his fork. and squints at her. “Oi, is this an interrogation or something? I don’t wanna answer any more questions.”  
  
The woman’s eyes widen, and Rin realizes he’s made a mistake. “Do _not_ disrespect me,” Airi hisses, jabbing a finger at him. “There are _always_  consequences to your actions.”  
  
Rin drops his fork, and it clanks on his plate. He leans back in his chair, dumbfounded. _What the Hell did I even do to her_ —  
  
A teenager slides into the room, across the hardwood floor, in pink ankle socks. He plops himself into a seat beside Rin, making grabby hands at a platter of fish.  
  
“I explained the train delay through text,” he whines. One of Rin’s eyebrows quirks up, and then almost touches his hairline. Because Airi just nods and pushes the plate towards him. The boy uses the fork and knife on his own plate to serve himself mackerel.  
  
“Where’s Haru?” Takao asks. Rin wasn’t expecting to hear his voice, so it startles him.

“He’s in the bathroom,” Nagisa replies through a mouthful of mackerel.

“Nagisa, don’t speak with your mouth full.” But there’s a smile playing on Airi’s lips, and wow, Rin thinks that’s the first time he’s seen her smile.

She turns that smile onto her next son. “Haru, how was swimming practice?”

“Good,” Haru says, moving around the table and sitting next to his mother. His eyes flick over to Rin and their gazes meet.

It reminds Rin of the heart palpations of his first ecstasy use.

Haru has the same dark hair as his parents, blue eyes that Rin is wading into. The line of his jaw, the muscles shifting underneath his shirt. Rin clenches his fist around the fork.

“This is Haru, he’s seventeen. Nagisa, who is sixteen.” Airi uses her glass to motion to the both of them before taking another drink of water.

Rin nods at them before trying to eat again. He can feel Haru’s eyes on him, making him want to squirm in his seat. It doesn’t help when Haru starts eating, pink lips parted for the fish. Rin concentrates on staring at his plate as if it’s a painting in an art museum.

It really doesn’t help when Nagisa takes out a strawberry shortcake from the fridge. Rin sees Haru lick whipped cream off of the tines of the fork and he has to excuse himself.

But he has to wash his dishes before he hides upstairs.

* * *

 

“I don’t get how Nagisa lives here, with all these rules. She kept telling him to stop talking with his mouth full.”

A moment of silence passes. The director sighs. “Is that all?”

“They seem like a normal family." Rin throws his hands up in surrender. "I don’t know what else you want me to say. They're not as strict as I expected them to be."

He lays down on the bed and turns his face into the pillow. Once the crew leaves, he allows himself to sleep.  


* * *

 

“Rin, wake up.” A hand shakes his shoulder, jolting him from his place of rest. Rin blinks at the boy above him.

Haru brings his arm back to his side. “We have to make breakfast.”

Rin groans, stretching until he hears his bones crack. “What time is it?”

“6:45.” Haru starts to walk towards Rin’s open door.

Rin closes his eyes, then they fly open. “What?!” he hisses.

“You have fifteen minutes to shower and get ready before coming downstairs. Nagisa and I will be in the kitchen.”

Rin groans again. The world isn’t even stirring yet. But he can hear Haru stepping down the stairs to the kitchen.

 

* * *

  
  
When he arrives downstairs, Haru tells him to start cracking eggs. He’s bent over the stove, drizzling oil into a pan. Nagisa is at the kitchen island, making fresh-squeezed orange juice. Rin brings the eggs and a bowl to the island and sits on a stool.

He allows himself to look at the blond whirlwind that is Nagisa. The boy looks like a cherub, rosy cheeks and sparkling magenta irises.

He picks his head up and stares at Haru’s back. “Haru, are you grilling mackerel again?”

Haru says nothing, letting the sizzle of the pan speak for itself. Nagisa giggles and turns back to his task.

“You don’t look like your parents,” Rin blurts.

Nagisa stops mid-peel. He looks up at Rin, eyebrows raised.

“I was adopted," he drones. 

Rin tilts his head. “Why? There’s nothing wrong with you.”

A pan slams against the burner of a stove.

Nagisa purses his lips. He begins to peel his oranges again.

Rin cracks an egg on the side of the bowl. He watches the yolk drip from the shells.

Nagisa only speaks to tell Haru that he’ll set the table. Airi marches downstairs and Takao follows her at a slower gait. The family doesn’t speak at breakfast. The parents leave after leaving housekeeping instructions.

They say nothing special to Rin. He feels like their gazes are cold, and he doesn’t know why.

 

* * *

 

“I kinda felt like an asshole for asking that.” Rin sighs, looking everywhere but the camera. “It’s a sore topic, but I didn’t know it was.”

He lets his eyes follow lines in the ceiling. “Why does this family always make you feel bad about nothing?”  


* * *

 

“Here’s your list of chores.” Haru hands him a piece of notebook paper. Their fingers brush when he grips the list, and he feels like a boy in a manga. Electricity shoots up his arm.

The euphoria ends when he reads the inked words. “Washing dishes. Sweeping and mopping the downstairs. Gardening?! I don’t know shit about gardening.”

“Don’t curse,” Haru says, and Rin wants to wrap his hands around his neck.

(And bring him closer to kiss him. Or kill him. Whichever.)

 

* * *

 

By the time he’s finished washing the dishes and mopping and sweeping, it’s 11:00. They have to make lunch for themselves. Haru returns to the grill while Nagisa slices cheese.

Rin stands at the kitchen counter, mixing iced tea. “Do you just eat mackerel for every meal?”

Nagisa laughs from his cutting board at the island. He's either forgiven Rin or forgot while cleaning the upstairs bathrooms.

“I try to,” Haru says. He flips a piece of mackerel with a spatula. Rin stares.

“I think that’s enough mixing,” Nagisa yells over to him. Rin stops the spoon.

They sit at the dining table with the sandwiches and tea. Haru is across from Rin, Nagisa beside him.

Rin examines their plates. His sandwich has extra ham to make up for the fish dinner last night. Nagisa has three sandwiches stacked on top of each other, and Haru just has mackerel.

“Don’t worry, Rin.” Nagisa grabs the top sandwich. “We won’t have mackerel for dinner tonight. It’s just Haru’s vice.”

He takes a bite of the sandwich and Haru stabs a piece of mackerel with his fork. Rin grabs his sandwich, too, and begins to eat.

Nagisa says through a mouthful of bread, “Hey, speaking of vices? What’s yours?”

Rin almost chokes, but he manages to swallow. He doesn’t wanna tell this person, someone Gou’s age, about that stuff.

But Gou knows, and Rin parties with Sousuke, who is just a year older than Nagisa. It doesn’t matter. And he’s on this show to talk about stuff, right?

Rin thinks. “Uh, I guess the drugs? The drugs are pretty bad.”

Nagisa’s eyes widen. “Woah. You’ve done a lot?”

Rin nods, knowing that the cameras are catching every second of this. He doesn’t think about them much, but this isn’t his proudest moment, and it might be televised. “It just makes everything more interesting.”

He looks down at the ham and cheese and lettuce, sandwiched between the bread.

* * *

 

Rin can remember it, although it’s foggy. The house kept warm bodies sliding against each other, pulsing electronic music. It smelled like sweat and alcohol and no one wanted to be there.

“My first time was when we were high on pain pills. Neither of us feel bad about what happened, and he doesn’t regret it.”

Rin examines his own palm, the one that held pills before he swallowed them with water from a bathroom sink.

“I don’t regret it either, but it’s not a good story.”

At least it wasn’t Sousuke’s first time. Rin clenches his fist and tries to hold the memory there.  


* * *

  
   
“I’ve never done drugs,” Nagisa muses, likes he’s observing the timeline of his life.

Rin laughs, every crash he’s had coming back to him. “Well, don’t start.”

Haru watches him over his plate.

They stay there for longer than they should. Rin recounts crazy parties, like one when Sousuke stripped for a varsity football team.

“That sounds crazy,” Nagisa says, finishing off his second sandwich. Rin nods, his cup of iced tea in his hand.

“It was. He was good at it, though. Got a few numbers.” He knocks back the iced tea and sets it down on the table.  
  
Haru surprises him with a question. “Are you and Sousuke ... dating?”  
  
Rin shakes his head. “No, we’re just childhood friends.” He moves his thumb over the curve of the glass. “We used to be on the same swim team, in middle school and high school. But then Sousuke hurt his shoulder, so we had to do something different with our time.”

He shakes his head at himself. “It’s not his fault, though, that all this happened.”

Nagisa is starting on his third sandwich. “So ... what led you here?”  
  
Rin’s shoulders sag. His eyes flicker over to the camera on Haru’s side of the table. He’s not afraid of being emotional after a few drinks or in the afterglow. But now?  
  
The director looks pissed. Rin can give him this.  
  
He turns to Nagisa. “It’s just the way that I handled everything.”  
  
The show will show a faded photo of Rin’s father, crouching on the starting block.  
  
“I always wanted to be an Olympic swimmer. I went to a prestigious school when I was younger so I could achieve what my father couldn’t. But seeing Sousuke like that? It reminded me of my father. He was caught in a storm once ... the fishing boat capsized and he hit his head. Never recovered. We watched him die in his hospital bed.  
  
His hospital was near the coast. You could see the ocean from the window of his room. He couldn’t stop looking at it. He wanted to swim again, but he couldn’t. Sousuke can’t, anymore. And he’s handled it better than I have. But just seeing him makes me think of everything that happened.”  
  
They sit in silence, remembering a man and another with a damaged shoulder. Rin wants to take everything back, since he has thirteen more days with these people.  
  
Well, he can forget about that. They’ve recorded all this. It'll make great TV.  
  
Haru is the first to speak. “So you quit swimming?”  
  
Rin runs a finger over the edge of his plate. “Not officially ... I just kinda stopped going, since Sousuke did. And then once my grades started to go downhill ... I wasn’t allowed to be on the team anymore.”  
  
Haru’s finished his mackerel, and Nagisa’s finished his third sandwich. They both stand, like soldiers called to attention.  
  
“We can do the gardening tomorrow,” Nagisa says, collecting his and Haru’s plates.  
  
Haru pushes his own chair in. “Finish your sandwich. Did you pack a swimsuit?”  
  
“Uh ... no? I didn’t think—”  
  
“You can just borrow one of mine,” Haru says, already leaving the table. Nagisa follows, and Rin looks at his sandwich, wondering what he’s gotten himself into.

* * *

 

He finds out at the swimming pool. Nagisa explained on the train that during summer, the school keeps its pool open.

“It’s so we don’t lose our toned physiques,” Nagisa says, flexing as they stand in the locker room. Haru hands Rin a pair of jammers before ducking behind a curtain. Nagisa and Rin go to change as well.

Nagisa was right about his own muscles. (Gou would be in heaven here.) But Rin doesn’t have time to remark upon this, as Nagisa darts out of the locker room. Haru keeps glancing at the door, as if he wants to tear out too. Goggles hang around his neck.

He crouches down and thrusts a hand into his swimming bag, finding an extra pair. Rin takes the goggles and thanks Haru. His frame is smaller than Rin’s, but Rin wants to lick his abs, wants to fit his hands around his biceps. (Rin is in heaven here.)

“They don’t fit me,” Haru says, returning Rin’s gaze to his face. “Do they fit you?”

Rin nods, and Haru returns it. The jammers are a little tight, but they’ll be fine. Haru runs out of the locker room and Rin walks in the same direction.

Nagisa is already floating in one section of the pool. Haru jumps in after him.

Rin watches the way his body weaves through the water. Haru swims freestyle and the water meets him with open arms. He files through the water with clean strokes, like a dolphin. Rin’s breath catches and he jumps into the pool, joining the two teenagers.

He’s forgotten the water's hold. It doesn’t allow him to think about anything else except reaching the other side. It crowds out the other thoughts until just the chlorine is left.

When he pops his head over the surface, Haru is standing in the water and watching him. He doesn’t make an effort to hide it, so Rin doesn’t make an effort to hide his blush.

* * *

 

“Swimming today was ... fun.”

Rin sits on the back porch, looking past the railing at the garden. Red and yellow and pink flowers burst from the lawn.

“I wanna start swimming again. Maybe this school year my grades will get better and I can do it.”

He chews at the inside of his cheek.

 

* * *

 

Dinner that night is stir fry. They don’t have to spend much time in the kitchen to make it. But Rin doesn’t mind making his own meals. It allows his mind to think about college, how he’s even going to live.

While he’s chopping carrots, it all starts coming back to him. He had a vision of a dream, and he muddled its colors. It's tinted by Sousuke’s shoulder, visiting his father’s grave, seeing his mother cry. And he couldn’t see life between sex and partying and drugs.

That’s not how the real world works. The real world is living at home and trying to support those you care about.

He pictures his mother bent over the stove, the way that Haru is. Her red tendrils of hair would be in a bun at the nape of her neck. She’s looking into the stew and wondering if her kids will like it, if Rin won’t lash out and tell her it tastes like shit. Before calling Sousuke and meeting at a restaurant that neither of them know.

He wonders if it hurts her, and he doesn’t want to think about that anymore.

Over their steaming plates, Airi tells Haru that Makoto will be coming over tomorrow. Haru chews on his fish and doesn’t say anything.  
  
“Who’s Makoto?” Rin asks Nagisa, who is drinking strawberry soda. The sight of the sparkling pink beverage makes Rin's stomach turn.  
  
Nagisa sets the cup down and says, “Haru’s best friend, my teammate and friend. He’s a lifeguard at the pool, too, but he wasn’t there today.”  
  
“Oh,” Rin drawls. He wonders if Haru’s best friend is just as quiet and mackerel-obsessed.  
  
Airi picks up her water glass. “How was the pool, Rin?”  
  
“Good.” It’s true.  
  
“Good. Are you on a swimming team?”  
  
He frowns. “Used to be.” They can all guess at the reasoning behind that. “I swam butterfly.”  
  
Nagisa pipes up: “Breast is best! Haru, tell him what you swim.”  
  
Haru swallows the bit of fish he’d been working on. Rin tries not to fixate on his Adam’s apple. “I only swim free.”  
  
Rin smiles. “Aren’t you on a swim team?”  
  
Nagisa laughs and says, “He is. But he only swims free on that too! He’s good at it, though.”  
  
Rin presses into a piece of broccoli with the tines of his fork. “I believe you.” He brings the vegetable to his mouth and chews.

* * *

 

Makoto is not as quiet as Haru, but he’s in the same attractive league. Rin watches from the doorway as he hands Haru a game controller. The camera crew isn't here, so Rin can bond with his new family without worrying about being on TV. Yet, it seems that Haru's only interested in bonding with Makoto.

“Do you want to play?” Makoto asks. “I think we have another controller somewhere.”

Rin notices the word  _we_ and also that Makoto doesn't live here. Haru’s already switching to the main menu, fingers pressing over the joysticks. Rin shakes his head.

“I’m just going to go upstairs. I wanna text my friend.” Sousuke hasn’t heard from him in the past two days. He has to be a little bit worried.

“Okay!” Makoto replies, flopping onto the leather couch besides Haru.

“Are you talking to Sousuke?” Haru asks. His voice sounds flat. Rin blinks.

“Yeah, why?”

Haru doesn’t answer, jabbing buttons on the controller. Makoto shrugs at Rin.

Rin can’t read minds. He leaves the living room and stomps up the stairs. When he gets to his room, he throws himself onto the bed, then slips his phone out from underneath his pillow.

 **From: Rin**  
_Yo._

Sousuke’s text comes in right after Rin’s written his.

 **From: Sousuke**  
_Yo. How is it? They whipped you into shape yet?_

Rin rolls his eyes.

 **From: Rin**  
_Nah. I haven’t done anything. And they haven’t, either. I just clean and shit._

 **From: Sousuke**  
_Well that’s more than you did here._

Rin frowns.

 **From: Rin**  
_True. How are things? Any parties coming up?_

 **From: Sousuke**  
_They’re fine. It’s only been a couple of days. Momo’s having a party. You coming?_

 **From: Rin**  
_How can I? I’m here._

 **From: Sousuke**  
_Take. A. Train._

 **From: Rin**  
_I have to spend money? This party better be good._

 **From: Sousuke**  
_It will be. Trust me._

They’ve been friends since middle school. Maybe this is harder on Rin than he’d like to admit.

 **From: Rin**  
_I trust you._

_But why do you trust me?_

He doesn’t send that last one.  
  
He only starts to feel at ease when he hears Makoto call goodbye to Haru through the floorboards. He feels like venturing downstairs again. He doesn’t eat much at home since he’s stopped swimming. But he’s ready for lunch and he’s looking forward to the pool. Even if this family doesn't have strict parents, they do have a routine. And Rin likes that about them. He doesn’t feel like another messy high school student.

Downstairs, Nagisa yells goodbye to Makoto, and Makoto laughs. Rin assumes that Nagisa's hugging him, since Haru tells Nagisa that Makoto has to go.

He slips his phone under his pillow again and looks up at the ceiling. At least he's getting time to himself, away from lenses and nosey directors.

 

* * *

 

He only talks about it the next night, back on the porch again.

"Hearing Makoto laugh with Haru ... the noises from the TV. It just felt weird. I mean, I'm glad that Haru has a friend."

No one has tended the garden yet, but they've visited the swimming pool twice in the past two days. Rin likes the priorities of the Nanase brothers.

"It just made me feel weird. Yeah."

His fingers curl around the arm of the chair.

"I don't know." 


	2. This Wasn't Ever Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this taking so long to finish. If you don't feel like returning to the first chapter, and you've forgotten what this fic is about, here's a summary:
> 
> Rin is on The World's Strictest Parents, a reality show where rebellious teenagers live with stricter parents for a week. Nagisa is Haru's adopted brother. Sousuke and Makoto are still there. And this story takes place in New York, for some reason.

They tumble onto the train and find seats. Rin wipes at his eyes, rubbing the crust away.

“Why are you so tired?” Nagisa asks. He pulls his phone from the pocket of his shorts. A string of charms hangs off of the phone’s dust plug. The pastel stars come in pink, peach, and mint.

Rin reaches out to hold them. Nagisa drops the phone in his open palm and starts rummaging for a pair of earbuds in his other pocket.

“I don’t know.” Rin leans over Nagisa to glare at Haru. “Maybe if I wasn’t being worked every day, I’d have some time to relax.”

Haru returns the glare, his eyes narrowed. “I thought drugs took care of that for you?”

Rin pinches a star between the pads of his thumb and index finger.

“Oooh,” Nagisa says, as he untangles the web of headphone wires with practiced precision. “Save the fighting for the cameras.”

“Yeah, I wonder why we have those cameras in the first place,” Haru says, not even missing a beat.

Rin gives Nagisa’s phone back to him, then draws back into his chair. The train shuttles them along, never ceasing for anything. Something alights in Rin’s core: a fire, flames snaking up his body and curling in his throat.

_You trusted him. Well, look where that got you._

He feels over the pockets of his ripped black jeans for his own phone. When he finds it, he fishes it out and taps until he can message Sousuke.

 

 **From: Rin  
** _When is that fucking party again lmao_

 **From: Sousuke  
** _You alright?_

 **From: Rin  
** _I’m fine but I can’t stand this kid._

 

The next response comes in a few minutes, Sousuke having assessed the damage and seen that it’s all clear.

 

 **From: Sousuke  
** _The Haru one?_

 **From: Rin  
** _Yeah._

 **From: Sousuke  
** _(￣ω￣;)_

 **From: Rin  
** _what does that even MEAN_

 **From: Sousuke  
** _(￣ω￣;)_

**From: Rin**

_Ugly.  
_ _Bye._

 

His chest feels lighter, like someone has cut the burden away. He shoves his phone back into his pocket and laughs at no one. He hates that stupid emoticon but Sousuke can always manage to cheer him up.

“Rin,” Haru says.

He turns to him, the smile still playing on his lips. Haru blinks at him before looking down at the floor of the train.

 _If you want to talk to me, you have to look at me_.

“It’s our stop,” Haru says.

He stands from the seat, crossing in front of Nagisa and Rin without a backwards glance. Nagisa rushes to catch up with his brother, while Rin sighs and trails behind them.

 

* * *

 

In the water, his rage crests again. It floods his insides and pushes at his fingertips. In turn, he jabs at the pool, carving a space for himself with all the force in his body. His only thought is feeling the pool wall against his palm. He wants to win, and to be fast, and to show them.

He wants to show Haru that he isn’t a burnt-out waste of an athlete who makes mistake after mistake.

He hears something to his side and he rams out of the water, head first. He’s gasping for air and every one of his muscles burn.

Haru’s already in the lane beside him, chest hitching and falling with his breaths. But he doesn’t sound like Rin does. His breaths are shallow and small, and after a few seconds he inhales and clambers out of the pool.

Rin watches him stand, Haru’s shadow splashing over Rin and his almost-asthma attack. At least Haru reaches a hand down to him. Rin grips it and pulls himself out of the water, trying to ignore the numb feeling coating the bottom of his stomach.

If he wants to get better at this, he needs to commit to it. He needs a workout routine and a coach to help him along. He needs better grades so that he can join the swim team. If he's falling behind, there's plenty of tutors he can hire. Or he can ask a student to help him. Nitori seems nice, and Rin’s already had him as a lab partner.

“Rin?”

He tears his gaze from the pool. His reflection is hard to find in the choppy water. Nagisa babbles to Makoto, who sits in his lifeguard chair, his eyes on the swimmers. Haru is in front of Rin with his arms crossed.

“We’re leaving.”

Rin nods, following him from the pool and into the locker room. He can’t be angry at Haru for being better than him. It’s only natural. The boy lives for the water.

 _But what do I live for_?

Rin steps away from the clothes splayed on the bench. This is a question college counselors and Gou and his mother have asked him.

He hasn't come up with a good answer yet.

“Rin?”

Nagisa waves a hand in front of his face, skin still glistening with water. Rin pulls himself from those thoughts: _too deep, too dangerous, not here, not needed_.

“Yeah? What is it?”

Nagisa shifts from one foot to another. “Uh, are you okay? Are you gonna shower or...?”

Rin runs one fingertip along the hem of his tank top, still lying in its crumpled heap. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry.”

 

* * *

 

He wants to fit his hands around his arms, pull him from the paper-thin sheets. White from white. 

 _Dust to dust. Ashes to ashes_.

His tears are twin rivers on his cheeks. The fog in his eyes obscures his vision, but he knows the ascent is blinding and bright.

It has to be glorious, too. He won’t settle for less.

 

* * *

 

Dinner is angel hair pasta with garlic-buttered shrimp. Of course, the scent of mackerel wafts up from Haru’s plate. The cameras and crew hover around the room. This isn’t going to make for interesting TV. The only audible noise is Nagisa slurping up noodles like he's been paid to do it. Other than that, the table stays quiet.

It makes Rin think of his mother and Gou, their lowered heads and still bodies. Sitting at the table without him, plates and cups positioned like a play. The hint of living but without it. Everything is too much like death.

His lips are dry. He laves a tongue over them, about to ask  _What are we doing tomorrow?_

Rin’s phone rings, a loud burst of synth pop crackling from the speaker. Nagisa jumps, slamming his knees against the table’s underside and crumpling in pain.

“Nagisa, are you okay?!”

"Unh..."

“Answer it,” Haru orders.

 _Isn’t that kind of rude_? But Rin’s just glad that Haru's going for bossy and not snarky. He sighs, rummaging in his pocket and grabbing his phone. He accepts the call, putting the screen to his ear. “Sousuke?”

“Yo, Rin.”

There’s a noise from the head of the table. Rin sandwiches the phone between his shoulder and ear, using both hands to gather his hair into a bun. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” A pause. “It’s just weird without you, man. How long are you there again?”

Rin gets the feeling. He snags the lone rubber band from around his wrist, hair still gathered in one hand. “I told you, two weeks. You that bored without me?”

“...No.”

Rin laughs. He finishes with his bun; it’s still damp from pool water. Haru is pushing his chair into the table.

“Haru, you still have mackerel on your plate,” Nagisa says. He motions to it with his glass of strawberry milk.

Haru sends him a glare, eyes cold beneath his bangs, before he leaves the room with plate in hand.

On the other end of the line: “You busy?”

Sousuke’s voice sounds like it’s fading in and out, louder at some points than others. Rin doesn’t understand it — they’re in the same state, after all.

“No, no, sorry. Are _you_? You sound—”

“Ah, I’m just at Junko’s. You know how shitty her reception is.”

Rin’s in a different place, like he’s in a play and the backdrop has collapsed behind him. The white sheet resembling the wallpaper of the Nanase dining room lays on a heap on the stage.

The vision is clear to him: thumb on lighter, the line of flame. Smoke filling the room, unfurling in its own version of a sky.

“Junko?”

“Yeah, man.” Sousuke says something to someone else. Rin can hear his low murmurs under that shitty trap music Junko likes. “Uh, but what was I saying? Yeah, we’re at Junko’s, too bad you’re not here.”

Rin laughs. “Fuck you.”

“ _Language_ ,” Haru hisses from somewhere in the kitchen. Rin rolls his eyes, glad that he can’t see it.

“Wow." Sousuke chuckles. "They’ve got you whipped over there, don’t they.”

“No,” Rin says, but it doesn’t sound convincing, even to his ears. Nagisa rises from the table, taking his plate with him and striding out of the dining room.

“Mm.” The sound comes with Sousuke’s usual smugness. “Hey, I gotta go. But hey, wish you were here. They’ve got that shit you like.”

Rin makes a fist with his other hand, clenching so hard he knows his knuckles are going white. Shit, swimming is fun and cleaning makes him feel like he’s productive. He likes riding the train without feeling like he’s fleeing from something. The food is good, Nagisa is kind and Haru is — Haru. As painful as a lightning strike, but just as beautiful.

“Saturday,” Sousuke says. Rin echoes the word before ending the call.

 

* * *

 

Haru is a ghost here. Moonlight has embraced him, brightened flawless skin and blackened his shadows. His blue eyes are darker than any pill Rin has ever taken. But his gaze still does something: keeps Rin splayed out on these sheets, his limbs heavy and leaden.

Haru sits on the edge of his bed. Dawn seems to have come earlier than yesterday, for some reason. Rin feels for his phone, which is lying on the right side of the mattress. He presses the solitary button and squints at the time. It’s 3:24 A.M.

He sets the phone down, eyes meeting Haru’s again. It’s nice, this sculpted swimmer in his bed at 3:24 A.M.

 _Why is Haru in his bed at 3:24 A.M_.

“Wha—” It’s a dry croak, but it’s all Rin has for this hour.

Haru doesn't seem apologetic. “This was the only time I could talk to you without cameras around,” he replies. They’re not around _all_ the time, but they leave to let Rin sleep, and he has to be grateful for that.

He hates the way Haru’s speaking, though. Like, of _course_ this is a reasonable hour, doesn’t Rin know that?

“Whatdoyouwant.” His words slur, but his eyelids are heavy, even if Haru looks nice in a blue T-shirt and black shorts.

“I shouldn’t have talked about the drugs thing.” Haru gazes at the shitty framed art near the door. “I don’t know what’s going on in your life.”

 _True_ , Rin wants to say, but the lightning strike has injected him with a fresh dose of shock. Haru, _speaking_ ? Haru, _apologizing_? Is this the witching hour or is this a dream?

He doubts that last one. If he’s dreaming, and Haru is in his bed, then even Rin’s unconscious knows how to waste time.

“Don’t worry about it,” Rin says, voice still coarse from sleep. Haru’s fingers twitch in his lap.

Haru frowns. “It was out of line, so I’m sorry. But, Rin, you _are_ wasting your potential.”

His eyes are two blue-painted bullets in the dark. Rin can almost hear the whizzing as they focus in on him. “When you're swimming ... I haven’t really seen anything like that before. It’s like ... you rejected the water, but it still welcomes you. It still wants you, Rin.”

_Yeah, it’s way too early for this._

“You have potential to make it as a swimmer. If you had a dream—”

Haru’s hands make fists, still in his lap. “You could do anything, Rin.”

Rin can hardly keep his eyes open. He lets his eyelids fall, now, hoping that he’ll forget these words in the morning.

“I’m touched, Haru, I really am.”

“Rin.”

“What am I supposed to do later?” Rin sighs. “Sweep, mop, swim? I need my energy for that.”

He turns his face into the pillow, the cool cotton doing nothing to soothe the heat in his cheeks. There’s silence, and then Haru gets up and leaves.

Rin’s so tempted, _so_ tempted, to curl up in the spot he’d vacated and leech on the warmth from the sheets.

As soon as the thought comes to his mind, he falls back into sleep.

 

* * *

 

The next time he blinks his eyes open, the dawn still looks different. Its golden knuckles nudge at the spaces between the blinds, coaxing Rin awake.

 _Weird_. He checks on the time on his phone. 9 A.M.

Sleeping in? The Nanases don’t _do_ sleeping in. _Nagisa_ especially doesn’t do sleeping in, with singing top 40 hits in the shower and whatnot.

Must have something to do with the conversation with Haru at the witching hour. If it counts as a conversation.

All he wants to do is go back to sleep, but his stomach rumbles and he always listens to his stomach. After showering, he glances at himself in the bathroom mirror.

His hair is a little too long. He’ll get it cut as soon as he gets home. A wet strand hangs over his forehead, and he pinches it between his index finger and thumb. Does Haru like his hair at this length?

Rin laughs at himself.

He makes it downstairs and into the kitchen, grabbing a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. It doesn’t matter what Haru thinks of him or his appearance. Maybe he still thinks of Rin as some washed-out druggie, but last night wasn’t that kind of conversation.

 _No_. Rin cracks an egg, feeling the shell fracture under his fingertips. Haru only sees him as a swimmer. Almost as an opponent. At least he sees potential but ... there isn’t potential for anything other than a rivalry or a kind of tepid friendship.

It wouldn’t sting so much if he couldn’t hear Makoto’s laughter over the revving of some shitty racing game.

 

* * *

 

“A sleep-in is always good.”

Rin pushes the mop’s head past the foam. It thumps against the bottom of the bucket, water soaking into its fibers.

“Wasn’t expecting it. But just because I got to sleep in doesn’t mean I’m gonna skip out on our chores.”

In the background, laughter comes from the direction of the living room. Rin frowns, pulling the mop up like he’s caught a fish on a line. Gray-tinged water splashes into the bucket. He watches the stream with pinched eyes.

“Any more questions?”

The director looks less tired today, with hair combed back to show his forehead. “What are your plans for tomorrow?”

The mop has stopped dripping. Rin plops the wet mess onto the floor. He fits his hands around the handle and starts dragging the mop across a floorboard.

“How am I supposed to mop with you guys in here?”

 

* * *

 

 

Nagisa enters the dining room, socked feet pattering against the floorboards. His bright pink jacket is an assault to Rin’s vision. In one hand, he holds a few strawberries, and he already has one in his mouth.

Rin looks up from his phone, job listings shining up at him from the screen. “Thank God you’re here,” he rushes.

Nagisa plucks the strawberry from his mouth. “Huh?”

“I’m trying to do some research, but it’s hard to open PDFs on my phone. I can’t go to the library without you guys, but—”

He waves towards the living room, where Makoto and Haru are still chatting.

Nagisa still looks confused, both eyebrows high. “Couldn’t you just ask Haru? Makoto’s just here ‘cause he’s off today. They could’ve taken you.”

Rin’s so glad the cameras aren’t getting this. “Yeah, but ... they seem busy.”

“On your mark!”

The voice actor from Racing Shitfuck 2 is proving Rin’s point.

“Oh...” Nagisa drawls, a smile spreading across his face like he’s found a job for Rin and himself, too.

At a location in walking distance.

“Sure!" He pumps one fist into the air like an anime protagonist. "Let's go!"

 

* * *

 

They’re not in NYC anymore, so Nagisa uses his own card for Rin’s computer access. Rin thanks him and returns to the job listings he’d looked up before. Nagisa sits in the chair next to him, flipping through a volume of manga.

The cameras aren’t allowed here: silence and all that. The old librarian at the front desk sent one glance over the rim of her glasses, and the director shrunk in his shoes.

“Where were you this morning?” Rin asks. _Barista? That could be fun_.

Nagisa turns a black-and-white page. “Tutoring.”

“Oh.” Rin runs his thumb over the scroll wheel. _Barista in a bookstore? Even more fun_.

“Yeah. I’m not good at math.”

“Oh.”

“Or the humanities. Or the arts. Or—”

“I get it, Nagisa.”

Rin flashes him a grin, hoping the joke comes across. Nagisa laughs, his eyes closing for a second.

“But I’m good at science! The non-math parts. I wanna be an astronaut. Space is kinda like swimming, right?” 

“Sure,” Rin says. Nagisa could be an astronaut, most definitely.

“It _is_.” Nagisa wheels his chair closer to Rin. “Jobs? You should work at the flower store. Oh!” He drops the manga volume into his lap, fluttering his hands in front of his chest.

“It’s like halfway between the City and here! Kinda far, but they’re hiring, and Haru and I can come see you when we’re free!”

It’s weird to think of Haru seeing him as a store clerk instead of the wasted potential in his guest bedroom.

“What’s the name?” His hands pose over the keyboard, ready to tap out the response. Nagisa shakes his head.

“We’ll go and fill out the application. They’ll see you in person — they’ll see how great you are!”

Nagisa thinks of him as _great_. Rin could laugh, but he doesn’t. He thinks back to that first day in the kitchen, graceless words tumbling from his mouth. _Why? There’s nothing wrong with you_.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Nagisa pouts at him.

“What are you talking about? Oh, hello.”

There’s a kid standing between them. He wears a vest over a button-down shirt, his library nametag glinting in the florescent light. His purple hair clashes with the red frames of his glasses. Rin turns back to his screen, wishing he could help the kid out with that fashion sense.

“Hello,” the kid echoes. “Um ... y-you’re not supposed to be ... sitting in that chair if you’re not using the computer.”

Nagisa turns his head in every direction, golden locks bouncing along. “Eh? But ... there’s no one else here!”

The kid makes a sound like a cough. “Yes but... it’s protocol—”

“Oh!” Nagisa waves his volume of manga over his head. “Do you have more of these somewhere?”

“Oi! Be careful with that!”

Rin stabs at the right mouse button with his middle finger. As much as he likes Nagisa, couldn’t they take this conversation somewhere else?

 

* * *

 

The next morning, they make pancakes for breakfast. They top the shortstacks with ripe strawberries and swirls of whipped cream. Rin avoids everything having to do with Haru’s tongue and licking whipped cream from fingers or fork.

It’s difficult, but he manages. Nagisa helps by asking questions, such as:

“Are you excited to go home?”

“Rin, when am I gonna meet your sister?”

“What are you doing later today?”

Haru answers that one, glass of orange juice halfway to his lips. “I’m taking Rin to the store.”

Nagisa thumps his fists against the table, words pouring from his mouth about how _great_ the store is and how  _awesome_ _all the cool plants are!_  Rin will never understand how this kid can be so cheery at 7 A.M.

 

* * *

 

“Today’s the last day,” the director says.

Rin looks up from his half-packed bag. Inside, a black swimsuit rests on a folded pair of jeans.

“How do you feel about leaving the family?”

Well, this is it. This is the part where Rin should avert his eyes from the camera. His hands should pause over his clothes, hovering over the little hills of fabric. He should show them _that_ side of him, the one that couldn’t handle watching _Your Name_ the first or second or third time.

“I don’t know,” he says. He feels like someone has drawn a rope around his heart, tugging it from his chest. And shown him that there was something to pull.

His lips part. He lets a sigh fall.

“I don’t know ... it was all nice while it lasted.”

He can at least give them that.

He’s almost done with this, anyway. There’s one more thing he needs to do.

 

* * *

  

The train ride is quiet. He and Haru find seats across from each other. At every stop, Rin sneaks a glance at him. Half hoping that Haru isn’t looking back.

Half hoping that he is.

It’s not his fault if Haru is ... Haru. Muscles shifting under his gray T-shirt. Soft swaths of unmarked skin. Eyes so blue that they don’t even look real.

 _Well, whatever_. The train jolts to a stop. Haru leaves and Rin trails after him.

Goro’s Gardening is a squat building of white-painted brick. Goro isn’t inside, but the woman at the desk hands Rin an application. The shop’s air is muggy and damp, heavy with the scent of leaves, the sweet aroma of flowers.

“It’s summer,” Rin says. Haru bends over a flower pot, planting his knees on the ground. “It’s time to harvest, not to plant things.”

Haru’s eyes flicker over the pot. He reaches a hand out, fingertips brushing across the closed heads of green buds. “This is for next summer.”

He stands again. Rin stares at the back of his head, at the person he always seems to follow. “Let’s find some seed packets.”

There isn’t much left in the aisles, but Rin’s gaze returns to the marigold. Its picture is a splash of fiery petals, and Rin can imagine the orange flower among the Nanases' tulips. It moves Rin into plucking the packet from its shelf and read the flower language on the back.

“You should plant this one next year,” Rin says, handing it off to Haru. He takes a second to glance at it.

“Sure,” he says. “As long as you come back to take care of it.”

They leave the store together, Haru clutching a bag of fertilizer like a teddy bear. Rin feels a heaviness behind his eyes that is anything but fatigue.

 

* * *

 

It’s time. He has lived in this guest room long enough to crave returning to it when he gets too tired. Enough of that, now, there’s his hands at the window frame, and then he starts pulling the window up. 

It’s heavy and burns like the last meter of a lap, but he hoists it over his head and makes it onto the fire escape. There’s a T-shirt in his back pocket. He crumples it up and sets it on the window’s edge, yanking the window down again so that it rests on the cloth. He hopes that someone will think he’s drying his clothes.

Or they won’t make it to the window, too confused by the fact that his bed is empty.

He steps down the spine of the fire escape, the black metal shining with streetlight. His feet meet the ground, gravel crumbling underneath the soles of his sneakers. It’s snaking out of the alleyway and up the hill to the train station. This is true suburbia. Green lawns sprawl towards the sidewalk.The houses stand tall but they do not make a sound.

He almost doesn’t register the train ride. The car has more people in it, kids from other surrounding towns. They whisper to each other, laugh, pass their phones around with videos playing onscreen. Rin feels homesick for Sousuke’s laugh, Gou’s smile, the quiet questions from his mother.

But he also feels static seize his lungs and his throat. What if he's caught? Who would be the one to catch him?

The City is a roaring beast, and Rin breathes in its clamor with a smile playing on his lips. The night isn’t dark, with the light bursting from the buildings and shops and clubs and bars. There’s crowds of people on the sidewalks, moving together like schools of fish. Rin trails one of the masses, pulling his phone from the pocket.

He shoots a text to Sousuke.

 

 **From: Rin  
** _You there?_

 

He breaks from the group and veers down the correct street. The alleyway is dark brick, and he feels for the door studded into it. He hears the party before he’s there: the waterfall of chatter, the music and its pulsing bass. He takes a deep breath, using the flashlight on his phone to find the doorknob before turning it and coming in.

There must be sixty or so people crammed into the front room. Momo has many friends, and he always knows who has parents out of town.

A crowd of laughing girls passes him, smoke curling around them like a collar. Rin needs to think like Sousuke.  _Where could he be_ _?_

 _God, it fucking stinks in here_. Almost like a skunk, but without the musk.

Sousuke has to be in the kitchen. And sure enough, he is, leaning against the fridge and talking up some girl. He wears a sleeveless hoodie and cargo pants.

Rin’s phone buzzes, still in his pocket. He doesn’t care, cutting across the kitchen and clamping a hand onto Sousuke’s shoulder. The girl is wide-eyed, staring at where he has a grip on his best friend.

Sousuke, without even turning around, says, “Yo, you made it.”

Rin doesn't allow himself to sag in relief. “Sousuke, we gotta go. Right now.”

This time, Sousuke cranes his head to stare at him. “Rin?”

“I’m serious. I don’t want you to ... I don’t want us to do keep doing this shit.”

“What?” Sousuke looks at Rin as if his best friend has become a map. “What are you talking about?”

But his gaze hooks over Rin’s shoulder. And sure enough, Haru is standing there, so sudden and almost an apparition.

 

* * *

 

“What did you think when you turned around and saw him?”

 

* * *

 

The static is back again at full force. Rin is everything but grounded.

“Haru." His voice sounds so _strangled_ , it's just pathetic. "Haru, I swear, it’s not ... this isn’t ...”

He feels like a man caught with another woman. _Ecstasy and I were just ...  it wasn’t anything, I promise_.

“Rin.”

It doesn't sound different than any other time he's said it. Haru juts his chin into the air, the picture of poise even in this unfamiliar place. One of alcohol-soaked floorboards, congealed smoke, two people grinding in the corner.

Haru frowns a little at seeing it. “Rin ... It’s time to go home.”

He turns and stalks out. The crowd of people almost part for him. In his pajama T-shirt and athletic shorts, he’s not done up to party.

Rin almost forgets about Sousuke at his back. Everything inside him wants to catch up to Haru as soon as possible. His hands and feet almost ache for him.

“Well,” Sousuke says, as smug as ever. “Are you following him?”

Rin meets his eyes, takes a deep breath. “We’re talking about this later. Please be careful.” Because that’s all he can do for Sousuke, now. Warn him and watch him.

And he darts through the crowd, exhaling in relief when he’s outside and no one has called him. Haru waits, leaning against brick, half of his body cast into shadow.

“I’m sorry,” Rin says, voice a little thin from the jogging.

Haru shrugs a shoulder. “Why?”

“I snuck out.“ 

Something inside him tells him to step forward. Something inside Haru even lets him.

Even more surprising, he cracks a smile. The sight is so pretty, Rin’s sure he’s gotten high off the fumes from the party.

“How do you think _I_ got here?” Haru asks. Back to business.

Rin’s eyes widen as he imagines Haru tracking his path down the fire escape. “Oh, shit.”

Haru’s smile fades in an instant. “Watch your language. We need to hurry if we catch the next train.”

 

* * *

 

Running after Haru is tiring. He’s quick, almost like he does this for a living. Maybe he’s imagining that pedestrians are just waves he needs to file through. Whatever he’s doing, Rin needs to get a hold of his workout technique.

They swipe their MetroCards in one go, skidding across the station like they’re two kids late for school. They jump on the subway. The doors close behind them, trading the dark station for the carriage’s lines of lights. Rin and Haru are so winded from their panting that they forget to hold on to something. When the train lurches forward, Haru finds his balance by slipping his arms around Rin’s waist.

“Sorry,” Rin murmurs, even though Haru’s the one who fell onto him. But it doesn’t seem like he’s going to move. He even hooks his chin over Rin’s shoulder. So Rin rests his other arm across Haru’s back, pulling him in as much as he can.

If this is a fluke, he’s going to take advantage of it.

“I was worried, when I knocked on your door and you didn’t answer. I kind of felt responsible for you.”

 _Responsible._ It’s not romantic, and Rin frowns, knowing that Haru can’t see it. “I know.”

Having Haru rest on him is making him flush hot and cold at the same time, but he manages to grasp the question by its horns. “How did you know where I was?”

Haru is boneless in his hold. “I saw one of your texts from Sousuke, on the walk to the station. I didn’t mean to look.”

“It’s fine.”

The train doors part again. A couple of teenagers step in, but Haru and Rin are still very much alone.

Which must be why Haru keeps talking.

“I said all that stuff to you because I wanted you to be better.”

Rin's fingers twitch. He wants to stroke over Haru's hair. Are the strands dry from all the chlorine? “Well ... I _am_ better.”

Haru sighs, but his words hold warmth. “I know.”

The train carriage never fills up. The few midnight stragglers keep their distance. But Rin and Haru hold onto each other for the entire ride.

 

* * *

 

“When I saw him?” Rin takes the soda from Sousuke, thanking him with a nod.

“I just thought ... please take me home. I just ... I just want you to bring me home.”

 

* * *

 

It’s verging on 3 A.M. when Haru slides his key into the lock. As birds begin their chirping, Rin feels his eyelids sag. He yawns, and as they peel their shoes off in the front entrance, Haru yawns back. Except he does it with mussed black hair and a hand over his mouth. He looks like a kitten, and it’s adorable, and Rin is in deep.

It also smells good, but Rin isn’t in so deep that the smell is emanating from Haru. They get to the kitchen at the same time. Nagisa is eating fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies from a pan on the stove.

The sink is a mess, the basin full of bowls and a dough-caked spatula standing up like a flag. Rin will have to clean that in the morning ... but it's already morning.

“You didn’t have to stay up,” Haru says, reaching for a cookie. Rin takes the one beside him, rolling his eyes at Nagisa’s ungrateful brother.

“He made you cookies! Be thankful.”

Haru shoots him a scathing look, but the effect lessens with a chocolate smudge at the left corner of his mouth. “Go upstairs and change your clothes. Take the T-shirt from the window. In case my parents wake up.”

Rin waves a hand, but moves to the staircase anyway. As he starts up the beige-carpeted steps, he thinks about how the camera crew is going to miss this.

 _What a tragedy_.

He puffs out a bit of laughter, scrambling to complete his tasks. There’s no mackerel in the cookies, but Haru had eaten them anyway. Rin needs to get to the pan before there’s none left.

He moves down the steps and rejoins Haru and Nagisa in the kitchen. Nagisa’s pouring himself a glass of milk. Haru leans against the counter. The chocolate smudge has been wiped away. He’s rubbing at his eyes with his fists, like a cop who’s had a rough night at the station.

Rin doesn’t want Haru to feel like he has to watch him. Even though he’s snuck out of the house, he hopes he’s shown a little trustworthiness.

When the thought comes to him, Nagisa claps once, sending a spray of crumbs down onto the counter. “Well, I’ve gotta go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.”

And he shoots Rin a _wink_. Oh, no. Just ... no.

Rin reaches for another cookie. Haru is looking down at the floor. “You can go to bed, if you want,” Rin says. “I’ll clean this up.”

Haru looks at Rin like he’s never seen him before.

Rin holds a hand up in self-defense. “I’m serious. It’s not a big deal, just a few dishes.”

Haru drops his head again and says nothing. _Back to his normal silent state, I guess_.

The teenager that Rin saw? The one who walked into the party like it had nothing to show him. The one who snuck down the fire escape and whipped his MetroCard from his wallet. And held onto Rin like they were one of those mall couples who just kissed everywhere.

Haru must've left that kid on the walk home, or the front step, or even with their pile of sneakers near the door.

Rin chews on his cookie. Nagisa baked these soft and chewy, and now he’s expecting something, and Rin doesn’t know what.

But he does know that he doesn’t want this to end.

The week is over. But he doesn’t want _this_ to be over: swimming, train rides, mackerel, and the promise of marigolds next summer.

The arms around his waist, a grip that never grew too hard. And the truth is ... Rin _knows_ that kid from the train. He's seen him card through the water so many times that he can't keep count.

Rin swallows. “Do you want to get coffee with me sometime?”

And _that_ wakes Haru up, makes him blink his own smog from his eyes. He looks so young in his pale blue T-shirt, but he looks so at home, because this is _his_ home.

This isn’t what Rin has had forever. But it is what he has right now.

“Okay.”

They look at each other. Rin tries to remember how the dawn rises over the line of Haru’s left cheek. He can’t guess at what Haru is thinking. He doesn’t even have to try.

Haru holds out his hand. “Give me your phone, so I can put my number in.”

“Okay,” Rin says, pressing his lips together _hard_ so that his smile doesn’t burst at the seams. He does what Haru asks, but this is an easier job than pulling weeds out of the garden or sweeping into a dustpan.

Rin slips his phone back into his pocket, and Nagisa enters the room. His eyes light up when he sees how close Rin and Haru are standing.

“Hey, glad to see that you guys finally did it. Now you guys can go on a double date with me and Rei!" 

“Huh? Who’s Rei?” Haru barks, eyes narrowing.

“Eh?" Nagisa grins. "Haru, don’t get all overprotective on me!”

“Overprotective?” Haru frowns, thunder climbing into his voice. “You think I’m overprotective?”

Rin sighs. “Oh, God,” he calls, but no one seems to hear him.

 

* * *

 

“What I learned? Uh ... I think I learned about what really makes a home.”

That one’s cheesy enough. The audience will eat this one up. The director’s smile is bright and wide, like someone’s announced that his wife gave birth to their baby.

“A home is made up of everyone’s contributions. Nagisa and Haru cooked. Their parents worked. I should’ve done more for my mother before this. I always thought about what I went through, what Gou had to experience. But I didn’t think about my mother as much as I should’ve.”

They’ll show different clips this time. The ones of Rin washing the dinner plates, setting the table, and wrapping his arms around his mother.

 

* * *

 

He takes Sousuke to the neighborhood swimming pool. Sousuke wades in the water or coaches Rin whenever he feels like it. Under July's blazing sun, Rin challenges other swimmers to race against him. The water is a cool contrast on his warm skin, bringing him back to his home in the country. 

He wins every race.

The episode is one of the most talked-about in the season. Something resonates with the audience, hits them in the place where it hurts. Whether it’s Rin’s father, Haru’s swimming, or whatever “romance” the director gushes about, Rin doesn’t know. But it’s kind of nice to see himself on screen. He gets to see all the glances Haru gave him when he forgot the cameras were watching.

To keep it simple, the audience is in love. Rin is also in love. And a frappuccino tastes better when the boy you love is sharing it with you.

(Even if Nagisa is sitting next to you and screaming about how he _needs_ more whipped cream. Even though he doesn’t ... at all.)

 

 

FIN

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this! Thanks to all of those who have read, left kudos, and commented.
> 
> Tumblr: [fiveyen](http://fiveyen.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this. If you're interested in reading another chapter, feel free to comment below.
> 
> [Here's](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3HEwU8kzl-8) the best episode of "The World's Strictest Parents," in my opinion. 
> 
> Tumblr: [fiveyen](http://fiveyen.tumblr.com)


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